


There for a Reason

by hexagonad (ideserveyou)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Magic, Showers, Tentacle Sex, Valentine's Day, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/hexagonad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the prompt 'Saboo receives a box containing Tony Harrison on Valentine's Day'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Knew you wouldn't let me in if I just rang the bell.'

_02/14_

_06:00_

_01 °C_

Saboo looks at the bedside clock, and groans.

Oh, fucking hell, not again.

Third time this week he’s woken at the crack of dawn because his feet are frozen.

He hates everything about this shitty place: the damp and chilly climate, the stupid inhabitants with their constant pointless bustle, the way nobody really believes in magic and nothing is ever really clean.

And the fact that all the beds are too short for him.

Who in the hell said Earth was a habitable planet?

Dennis the Head Shaman, that’s who. Like that twat knows anything about anything. He was pretty drunk at the time, and Saboo must have been off his face too, ever to have been convinced that accepting a posting as the London Representative of the Interplanetary Board of Shamen was a good idea.

But by the time his latest hangover had cleared, he’d found himself installed in this very deluxe (but absolutely sodding freezing) penthouse flat, complete with summoning room, library, laboratory, and cavernous office with a stack of vital (but mind-numbingly tedious) shamanic paperwork already piled on the glass-topped desk next to a shiny new laptop that is apparently enabled for Intergalactic Internet, although he’s still waiting for Kirk to come round and sort out the security settings.

 _Everything a shaman needs_ , Dennis had said.

Yeah, right, Saboo thinks bitterly, pulling the black silk eiderdown closer around him and curling into a ball.

He’s only been here since Monday. Three days, and he loathes the flat already.

_Look at the brochure. ‘Architect-designed for luxury lifestyle; glorious views over the Thames.’_

Should’ve said ‘Idiot-designed for draughty discomfort; gloomy vista of grey buildings, grey sky and greyer water.’

Well, one thing’s for sure, he’s never going to make a career as an estate agent here.

He’s not going to get back to sleep, either.

Might be worth trying... he reaches idly down to touch himself, his cock half-responding as his hand wraps around it, but fuck it, his feet are so cold, he can’t concentrate on anything else.

Perhaps a shower, then. At least the water is usually hot, even though it always leaves him feeling faintly dirty when he thinks of how many times it must have been recycled, all those humans it’s passed over or around or through.

Yes, a shower. And a good long wank. He’s not likely to get any other sort of action around here, and his body is wound up tight with frustration.

 _There’s a new executive flying carpet in the garage downstairs_.

Like there’s anywhere to fly away to.

He sighs, and forces himself to get out of bed and reach for his dressing gown.

 _And your Earth-based colleagues can assist you in your work. I predict that you’ll be seeing a lot more of them_...

‘Fuck off, Dennis,’ Saboo mutters. ‘Like your crystal ball has ever been in the slightest bit accurate.’

And now he’s talking to himself.

Shit.

It seems to take forever for the water to warm up, but at last it’s reached a tolerable temperature, and Saboo takes his hand out of his pyjama trousers and strips them off.

Maybe this morning isn’t turning out so bad after all, he thinks, rubbing thoughtfully at the head of his prick and reaching for a bottle of shower gel.

He’s just about to get into the shower cubicle when the doorbell rings.

Saboo’s first thought is to ignore it, but whoever is ringing it has clearly read his first thought and goes on and on ringing, the annoying electronic bell-tones drilling into Saboo’s skull.

With a savage oath, he punches the off-switch on the shower and pulls his dressing gown around himself.

‘Who the fuck’s that?’ he snarls into the entryphone.

‘Special delivery for you, sir,’ a very Welsh voice intones.

‘I don’t want it.’

The voice is unmoved. ‘Shamanic special delivery, sir, direct from the Head Shaman’s office. Acceptance is mandatory.’

Saboo sighs resignedly. More work, like he needs it, he hasn’t finished with the day-before-yesterday’s yet. ‘Very well. Leave it on the doorstep, then.’

‘I am unable to do that, sir. It requires a signature on parchment, in triplicate.’

‘Oh, fuck.’ Saboo presses the entry button. ‘Bring it up, and be quick about it.’

‘Very well, sir.’

Of course the lift takes ages. Or perhaps the bloke’s just decided to climb the stairs. Either way Saboo’s bare feet are several degrees colder by the time a cautious knock sounds at the front door.

A shortish man with a big nose and very thick glasses is standing on the mat, proffering a clipboard with the requisite paperwork and a biro, and wisely saying nothing as Saboo scribbles a signature on all three sheets.

He takes back the clipboard and pen and gives Saboo a hasty wave of farewell before scarpering down the stairs, a tiny bat flittering around his head.

He’s left a box on the mat. A big box, wrapped in brown paper, measuring maybe a foot on each side.

Saboo sighs, and picks it up.

It isn’t as heavy as he was expecting: only about the weight of... say, a beachball. Or a medium-sized melon.

Not paperwork, then; but if it’s come from the office, it can’t be anything good.

He dumps it on the living room floor and tears off the wrapping.

Inside is a gold giftbox tied with pink ribbon. There is a small heart-shaped label with his name on it, but no message.

A Valentine? Well, that’d be a first.

Probably just Dennis’s idea of a joke.

Better find out the worst.

Saboo undoes the ribbon and is about to lift off the lid when the box gives a shudder, shifting a couple of inches across the floor although he hasn’t touched it.

‘What the – ?’ He takes a step backwards, heart pounding with shock.

The box lid is pushed open from the inside, and falls to the floor.

‘Flamin’ heck, it was stuffy in there,’ a familiar nasal voice complains. ‘Ooohh, an’ it’s cold in ’ere, but don’t worry, I’ll soon warm things up.’

With a sinking feeling, Saboo peers into the box.

Of all the things he never wanted to find in a Valentine’s Day gift, this _has_ to be the one he wanted least.

Tony Harrison.

Resplendently made-up in eyeliner and lipgloss, with a rose stuck behind one ear.

Saboo’s first instinct is to shove the lid back on the box and throw it out of the window.

Tony grins lasciviously. ‘Don’t even think about it.’ He crawls clear of the box, flexing and stretching his pink tentacles. ‘Hello Saboo old son, how are you?’

‘I was fine,’ Saboo growls. ‘Harrison, what the fuck are you doing here?’

Tony clears his throat and launches into a speech.

‘It has come to the Head Shaman’s attention that you are not happy in your work...’

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Saboo snaps.

‘...So he’s decided to take action to improve your quality of life.’

‘By sending me a box with you in it? Just how is that in any way improving my quality of life?’

Tony chuckles. ‘Dennis moves in mysterious ways, my friend.’

‘You’re not wrong there. It’s mostly a mystery to him, never mind the rest of us.’

‘Trust the big man with the tatts,’ Tony says earnestly, shuffling closer. ‘I know you think he’s a prick, in fact between you an’ me I think he’s a prick too an’ his man management skills are shockin’, but he’s Head Shaman for a reason. Even though nobody seems to know what that is... Blimey, you’re cold.’

A tentacle tip reaches out to stroke Saboo’s toes.

Saboo takes a step back, goosebumps rising on his skin.

Tony follows him, inexorably. ‘Cold and lonely and pissed off, and we can’t have that on Valentine’s Day, can we?’

‘I think we can, actually.’ Saboo backs away again. ‘If the alternative you’re offering is what I think it is, then we _definitely_ can. Listen, I don’t – ’

‘Oh, but you _do_.’ Tony’s blue eyes are uncomfortably knowing. ‘I’ve been around a while, son, I’ve seen it all, I know all the different sorts of frustration an’ I’m lookin’ at most of ’em right now.’

‘Just how old _are_ you?’

‘That’d be telling.’ Tony grins. ‘Even Mrs Harrison don’t know that. In fact, I’m not sure that I know meself any more. Old enough, but not too old. Still a vibrant sexual dynamo with a few tricks up me sleeves.’

‘You don’t have sleeves, you cleft, you don’t have any arms.’

Saboo is backed up against the wall now and the alien is sprawled on the floor at his feet, reaching out for him again.

‘Who needs arms?’ The touch on Saboo’s foot is very gentle, and blissfully warm. He hadn’t expected Tony to be warm, always thought of him as something cold and selfish...

‘I don’t want –’ Saboo says weakly.

‘Pull the other five. You’re so far gone you’ll take it from anybody. Gaggin’ for it, that’s what you are.’ Tony squirms in between Saboo’s ankles; licks at the arch of one foot.

It _should_ be revolting.

Tony looks up, right up Saboo’s dressing gown, and cackles with glee. ‘I was right. Nice view.’ He snakes a tentacle around Saboo’s calf. ‘How about we take this into the bedroom?’

‘How about you just piss off?’ Saboo tries to shake Tony off him, but the pink ballbag is now clinging to his leg with at least four tentacles and every movement just seems to make him hold on tighter.

‘No can do, I’ve bin sent ’ere on a mission an’ I am bound by shamanic law to fulfil it.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘A mission – tee hee, sounds a bit rude –’

The tentacles reach Saboo’s thigh.

‘Dennis sent you here to have sex with me?’ Saboo squeaks indignantly.

‘You said it.’ Tony starts to drag him through the bedroom door.

‘No – wait – there must be some sort of mistake. He can’t possibly have thought I’d want this.’ Saboo glares down at Tony. ‘This was all your idea, wasn’t it?’

‘Well... OK, I’ll come clean. The sex part _was_ my idea. Ditto the classy packaging, knew you wouldn’t let me in if I just rang the bell. But Dennis _did_ authorise this trip an’ I _am_ here to perform a magical task.’

Saboo snorts. ‘That all sounds a bit Harry Potter to me.’

‘I’ll get me wand out if _you_ will,’ Tony giggles.

Saboo kicks at him with his free foot. ‘What magical task?’

Tony shakes his head. ‘I’m operatin’ on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know.’

‘I have a right to know. It’s my life you’re about to fuck up even further, hard though that might have been for me to imagine when I woke up this morning.’

‘OK, OK, keep your hair on. I’m here to lift an enchantment.’

‘I’m not enchanted.’ He’s never felt less enchanted in his life.

Tony shrugs, sending an odd sensation up Saboo’s spine. ‘Never said you were... But you are cold, an’ on yer own, an’ deeply sexually frustrated, an’ one way or the other I’ll be eatin’ me candlelit dinner with Mrs Harrison tonight knowin’ I’ve fixed all of those things for you.’

A tentacle tip reaches further.

‘An’ knowin’ you’ve got a lovely soft arse,’ Tony coos.

Saboo sighs resignedly, and reaches down to pick Tony up and carry him to the bed.


	2. ‘I’d do you breakfast in bed, Valentine, but I can’t reach yer worktops.’

‘Well,’ Tony says, ‘this _is_ nice.’He aims one of his most winsome smiles at the frowning, half-naked shaman huddled under the black silk covers on the other side of the king-sized bed.

‘Is it.’ Saboo goes on frowning.

Tony sighs inwardly. Something tells him this is going to be hard work.

He takes the rose out from behind his ear, twirling the stem thoughtfully in one tentacle-tip. ‘What’s blown up your skirt, then? Most people’d be happy to have the awesome power of me legendary multi-hexagonal penis at their beck and call.’

‘I’d give you a list, but life’s too short.’ Saboo’s stomach rumbles. ‘For a start, I haven’t even had any breakfast yet.’ He sounds suddenly plaintive.

‘Well, let’s ’ave it now,’ Tony says cheerily, ‘fortify ourselves for the sexual athletics to come. I don’t mind waitin’ for what I know will be worth waitin’ for, if you catch my drift. Go on, get in that kitchen.’

Saboo's scowl deepens.

Tony blows him a kiss. ‘I’d do you breakfast in bed, Valentine, but I can’t reach yer worktops.’

This logic has always worked on Mrs Harrison, and sure enough after a couple of minutes Saboo sighs and gets out of bed. He looks down at Tony and asks grudgingly: ‘Want me to get you something?’

‘You got Frosties?’ Tony asks, more in hope than in expectation.

‘No.’

‘Golden Grahams? Cheerios?’

‘I’ve got organic muesli and skimmed milk. Or wholemeal toast.’

‘Nutella?’

Saboo’s expression is one of deepest contempt. ‘Malt extract,’ he snaps.

‘Blimey, you really do live the ’igh life when you’re at ’ome, don’t you?’

‘I believe in keeping a healthy mind in a healthy body during working hours.’

‘You sanctimonious git.’ Tony laughs. ‘You should try keepin’ a filthy mind in a sexy body at all hours. Works for me...’ Saboo is still glaring at him. ‘Toast’ll do fine,’ Tony says hastily. ‘An’ three sugars in me coffee.’

It’s good coffee; gives him a real buzz. Saboo wolfs down a bowl of what looks like bird food, then sips at his herbal tea and stares resolutely out of the window, as though hoping Tony will be gone by the time he looks round again.

Not a chance.

Tony eats the toast (not bad actually) in diplomatic silence, and is busily licking the sticky malt residue off his tentacles when he looks up and sees Saboo’s eyes on him.

‘Well,’ Saboo says quietly, setting down his empty cup, ‘we’d better get down to business, I suppose.’

‘Yeah,’ Tony says, equally quietly, ‘I reckon we better had.’

He wriggles across the silky black sheet, burrows under the eiderdown and wraps himself around Saboo again.

He starts at the feet; not having them himself, he’s always been fascinated by them. That bit of smooth, delicate skin just below the swelling curve of the human ankle bone; the graceful arch; the soft pads of the toes and the little crevices in between.

Saboo draws a harsh breath as Tony explores and caresses. ‘This is all kinds of wrong,’ he mutters.

‘Not _all_ kinds.’ Tony blows a hot breath against a particularly cold toe. ‘There’s something right about it too.’

‘Well,’ Saboo admits grudgingly, ‘this is the first time my feet have been warm in a week.’

Tony would dearly love to spend more time warming up other bits of his colleague, but it’s becoming very clear, as he works his way up Saboo’s left thigh, that Saboo simply won’t last that long.

Not this first time, anyway.

In all Tony’s long life and many partners (of many species and assorted orientations and genders) he’s never had anyone quite as desperate for sex as this, not even first-time teenagers or Mrs Harrison on their wedding night.

He pushes the duvet aside and climbs up onto Saboo’s chest, the thud of Saboo’s heartbeat doing all sorts of nice things to Tony’s sensitive underparts.

The man’s eyes are closed. Tony looks at the soft arc of his throat, the way his eyes are squeezed shut and his lips slightly parted.

It’s tempting to crawl up there and kiss him on the mouth, but Tony still tastes of coffee and toast and he knows how fastidious Saboo is, so he contents himself with stroking his cheek and chin and savouring the tickle of that ludicrous little beard.

Saboo’s eyelids relax, just a bit.

Tony moves slowly backwards down Saboo’s stomach, flat and muscular; the dip of his navel is another delicious temptation, but Tony suspects that sticking anything into anywhere will be a step too far at this early stage of their relationship, and he doesn’t fancy being kicked out of bed onto that cold floor.

He turns round, keeping his multihexagonal erection in check with the skill of long practice.

Delayed gratification is still gratification, after all.

That cock is so hard it must be painful. It’s an elegant erection, smooth and symmetrical, with clean lines and a nice shape to it. The skin at the tip is slightly puckered and there’s a bead of moisture already forming there.

Tony licks his lips.

His shaman-sensitive tentacle tips feel around Saboo’s balls, also rock-hard and swollen.

Saboo whimpers and writhes, his hips lifting off the bed.

‘It’s all right, son, I’ve got you,’ Tony murmurs, coiling three tentacles around Saboo’s prick and gently pulling the foreskin back.

He’s hardly done anything, and already Saboo is groaning and thrusting against him.

‘Is that good?’ Tony moves his tentacles a little, up and down.

Saboo thrashes his head from side to side on the black pillow. ‘Just... get me off, OK? Just do it, bloody get it over with, I don’t care how, I don’t care any more...’

You _do_ care, Tony thinks, and that’s just the trouble, isn’t it?

‘I... don’t... fucking... care...’ Saboo is trembling all over, his forehead beaded with sweat. ‘I... don’t... Oh...’

Tony licks at a fourth tentacle until it’s shiny and wet, and strokes it over the head of Saboo’s cock, teasing delicately at the slit, enjoying the taste of salt and the musky aromas of sex.

He’s always felt sorry for humans, with their extremities that only touch.

‘More,’ Saboo pleads.

It’s a challenge to orchestrate multiple tentacles for maximum sexual gratification, but Tony’s had plenty of practice. He carries on stroking and slowly, slowly tightening his grip until he can tell Saboo is close to the edge, rigid and hot and leaking.

A subtle shift in all four tentacles at once, and Saboo loses it, letting go in a satisfyingly copious flood of come, muffling his groans with his forearm pressed over his face as Tony milks him of more and yet more, astonished as always at the capacity of those apparently inadequate human gonads.

Afterwards Tony pulls the covers over his reluctant partner and sits on the pillow beside him, stroking his hair in a slow, soothing rhythm until his ragged breathing calms and his heartbeat is no longer shaking the bed.

Presently Saboo uncovers his face and swats the tentacles away from his head. ‘Get off me.’

‘Welcome back, lover.’ Tony is un-fazed. He’s used to this sort of reaction. ‘Feelin’ better now?’

‘I’m not sure. Relieved, I suppose – oh god, I can’t believe we just did that.’

‘Believe it.’ Tony giggles. ‘There’s plenty of evidence.’ He reaches down to touch Saboo’s wet belly.

Saboo shudders. ‘Don’t. I need to get clean.’ He gets off the bed and wraps his dressing gown round himself.

‘Wanna take a shower?’ Tony suggests, waggling his eyebrows.

‘Yes, but not with you.’

‘Worth a try. You got a guest bathroom?’

‘Right this way.’ Saboo picks Tony up unceremoniously by one tentacle and lugs him across the living room, through the hall and into a white-tiled shower room that looks as though nobody’s actually used it since it was built.

Saboo deposits his burden in the shower tray, dumps a bottle of bodywash next to him, punches the ‘on’ button and shuts the cubicle door.

‘Oi, that’s cold!’ Tony shrieks, breathless and indignant. ‘Is this what I get for givin’ you a good time?’

‘It’ll warm up. Stop whingeing and start washing.’ Saboo drops a fluffy white towel on the floor outside the rapidly misting glass. ‘I’ll be back to turn it off in ten minutes.’ He stalks out, shutting the door with a bang.

True to his word, he is back ten minutes later, his hair all damp and fluffed-up and his no doubt spotlessly clean body wrapped in a black towelling robe.

‘Are you done?’ He opens the door and glares down at Tony.

‘I am. All clean an’ beautiful.’ Tony grins at him.

‘Yes, well, eye of the beholder and all that. Just as long as you won’t leave smears on the furniture...’ Saboo leans over (Tony looks hopefully up at the bathrobe, but it is securely belted so as to reveal nothing of any interest) and turns the water off.

He sniffs, and his face twists with disgust. ‘Oh no. Don’t tell me you – _No_. Not in my _shower_...’

‘Sorry you missed it?’ Tony is unrepentant.

‘No, I am _not_. That is not a – perversion that interests me in the slightest.’

‘It interests _me_.’ Tony licks his lips.

His host looks as though he might throw up. ‘I don’t want to know.’

‘I ’ad to,’ Tony pleads, ‘you’d shut me in an’ anyway I can’t reach to climb on the bog seat.’

He’d thought he’d given it plenty of time to rinse away; should’ve known Saboo would be hyper-sensitive.

‘Just... get out of there.’ Saboo flings open the bathroom cabinet and grabs a bottle of bleach. ‘Before I sanitise you along with the shower tray. You’re disgusting, Tony, you know that?’

‘You tell me often enough.’ Tony wriggles hastily onto the bathmat and wraps the towel round himself.

Saboo picks up a cloth and scrubs and rinses, tutting with irritation. ‘I could have done without this,’ he mutters.

Tony is unabashed. ‘You couldn’t have done without what came before, though.’

Saboo looks at him a long moment, then shakes his head and leaves the room, carrying the dirty cloth between the tips of his fingers.

Tony takes his time getting dry, and makes the effort to drag the wet bathmat and towel to the washing basket in the corner before skating across the tiled floor and into the hall.

He checks to make sure he’s alone; he can hear Saboo rustling about in the bedroom. Probably changing the sheets.

The entryphone is a long way off the floor, but there’s a handily placed chair and a row of coat-hooks and Tony has no trouble climbing up and pressing the button that’ll release the street door.

He takes the flat door off the latch as well, leaving it ever so slightly ajar.

It pays to plan for success, even if it’s a long shot.

The empty box lies on the floor of the empty lounge, gleaming dully in the grey light of mid-morning that’s filtering through the clouds outside the steel-framed windows.

Gloomy old place, this. No wonder Saboo isn’t happy here.

Tony looks thoughtfully at the box, then shoves it a bit closer to the bedroom door, and goes back into the bedroom.

The bed is neatly re-made and Saboo is lying on top of it, flat on his back, arms behind his head.

Tony climbs onto the bed and nestles down next to him. He smells of sandalwood soap and toothpaste and his own clean self, musky and warm.

After a while he shifts a little, and gives a heavy sigh.

‘Somethin’ on yer mind, son?’ Tony asks quietly.

‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ Saboo asks the ceiling.

‘The Board’s good work,’ Tony says, deadpan.

‘Oh, piss off, don’t give me that corporate rubbish. I got enough of that from bloody Dennis.’

‘The old man feed you a load of bullshit, did he? An’ you fell fer it, an took the job?’

‘I must have _wanted_ to fall for it.’ Saboo sounds petulant. ‘I can’t understand it.’

‘I can.’ Tony chuckles sympathetically. ‘Yer judgement was compromised on account of yer over-full bollocks. Bin there, done that, ended up acceptin’ a position on the Board.’

Saboo turns his head to look at Tony. ‘Yes, how _did_ you swing that? None of us knew you, you just appeared one day and even Dennis couldn’t remember who the fuck you were.’

‘Long story, son. Long story. Maybe I’ll get pissed and tell you someday. It involves a motorbike. And your little friend Naboo...’

‘He’s not my friend,’ Saboo snaps.

‘Don’t make no difference. I took the job, is my point. Turned out not so bad, in the end.’

‘How do you stand living on this crappy planet?’

‘Don’t dismiss Earth out of ’and. It’s got a lot of good points. It suits Mrs Harrison nicely, for a start, an’ there’s plenty of expat shamen based out here. The Welsh lot are a good laugh, an’ there’s you an’ me in London now, an’ Naboo’s not far away.’

Saboo snorts. ‘That little waste of space. He’s always bloody miles away. Even when he’s in the same room.’

‘At least ’e’s a fellow shaman. You could make more of an effort with the magical crowd, be social an’ that. Like me.’

‘I do not want to be like you. I work alone.’

‘Play alone?’ Tony nudges up to Saboo’s side.

‘Yes, well.’ Saboo frowns, but he doesn’t move away.

Tony looks around the handsomely proportioned room. ‘The job may be crap, but least they gave you a decent pad. You could have an outrageous housewarmin’ party here.’

‘No. It’s Board property, not mine, I can’t let you lot trash it.’

‘We’re responsible drinkers,’ Tony protests.

‘Dennis isn’t. Neither is Kirk. And you know what happened at the last shaman party.'

Tony has some happy – if hazy – memories of that particular party. 'Yeah, someone put Naboo in charge of drinks and he decided to make punch in his cauldron. It was a fuckin' good brew.’

‘It was fucking lethal. I was sick for a week afterwards. Nobody should let that little tit be in charge of anything. He always screws up.’

‘Oh, lay off him. What you got against him anyway?’

‘Nothing. Everything.’ Saboo rolls onto his front, hugging the pillow. ‘I don’t want to talk about Naboo, OK? I’ve never liked him.’

‘Hey, calm down.’ Tony strokes Saboo’s back; massages at the knots of tension in his shoulders. ‘You don’t have to talk about Naboo. Or about anythin’. Just relax, feel the magic of me tentacular touch, Mrs Harrison swears by it when ’er back’s playin’ up...’

The tentacular touch does indeed seem to be working its magic. Saboo relaxes and breathes deep as Tony kneads at his muscles, and after ten minutes or so he’s shifting position on the mattress as his growing erection makes itself felt.

Tony reaches underneath him and makes himself felt there as well.

‘Get off me,’ Saboo protests.

‘Oi, sunbeam, you’ve ’ad all the action so far, that’s not fair, the H-Man has needs as well you know.’

‘I was afraid you were going to say that.’

‘Nah, you was ’opin’ I would. Well, yer cock was ’opin’ anyway.’ Tony gives it another squeeze. ‘An’ I ’aven’t completed me shamanic task yet. Can’t go back to the office with unfinished business, can I?’

Saboo gives another of those resigned sighs, and rolls over again.


	3. 'Don't worry, me discretion's as legendary as me genitalia, I won't breathe a word to the Board.'

Tony likes virgins. He makes no secret of it. There is still something special about first times, even though his was several centuries ago.

He smiles to himself, thinking of Mrs Harrison, truly a wife in a million, who will happily and convincingly pretend to be a blushing maiden whenever he wants.

And who will happily let him go out for the night – or the day, come to that – when it’s one of those times when only the real thing will do.

This is the real thing, right here, and Tony is getting ready to pull out all the stops to make this particular first time very special indeed – without letting on that he knows it’s the first time. A man has his pride, after all. Particularly this man.

An exploratory tentacle slides down between those lovely soft arse cheeks, making Saboo draw a harsh breath.

‘Alright, lover?’ Tony wriggles the tentacle some more, savouring the smooth curves, musky scent and silky texture of his colleague’s immaculately clean skin.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Saboo sounds tetchy. ‘What do you want to do this time?’

‘That’s a bit blunt, innit? An’ I thought this was a romantic assignation...’

‘Fuck off, Harrison, you thought nothing of the kind. This is purely a – a shamanic business arrangement. But I need to know what you intend.’

‘Well, I want...’ Tony brushes the very tip of the tentacle across the hot, puckered skin of Saboo’s entrance. ‘But only if you want too. Non-consent ain’t one of the H-Man’s kinks... I’ve never yet forced anyone. Only persuaded ’em. I can be very persuasive. I mean, look at you an’ me right now.’

‘I’d rather not.’ Saboo’s whole body grows tense at the intimate touch.

Tony moves his appendage to more neutral territory. But the man underneath him does want, he can tell from his rapid heartbeat and the catch in his breathing.

Not to mention his rather large erection.

‘Suit yourself. But I think we make a very pretty picture.’ Tony hauls himself up the bed so he can see Saboo’s face; he has his eyes open, which is good, but he looks worried, which isn’t.

‘Are you...’ He frowns dubiously at Tony. ‘Are you compatible with human anatomy?’

Tony tries to look as inoffensive as possible, although that’s not easy when you’re permanently naked, tentacular, bright pink and shaped like a ballsack. ‘D’you mean, am I as humungously well endowed as I’ve always maintained I am?’

‘Well... yes.’

‘Well... yes, I am, but I’m multidimensional, one prick fits all. I’m good at adjustin’, I’ve been with all sizes an’ species an’ I don’t get many complaints.’

Saboo still looks worried. Tony scoots further up the bed. ‘You don’t have to,’ he says gently, reaching out to touch Saboo’s cheek. ‘It’s your choice.’

‘I didn’t think I _had_ a choice.’ Saboo pushes the tentacle away. ‘Thought it was essential to whatever this task of yours is.’

It would be so easy to lie, to blame Dennis, but somehow Tony feels that honesty is called for here. A bit, at least.

‘Not _essential_ , exactly. Probably the most efficient way and certainly the most fun. But if you don’t want to take this opportunity of findin’ out –’

‘Finding out what?’ Saboo says sharply.

‘What it’s like to feel the awesome power of the H-Man up inside of you.’ Tony grins.

Saboo shakes his head, as though to clear it. ‘I want –’ He hesitates, hand raised, reaching towards Tony’s head.

‘You can touch if you like, don’t be ashamed of feelin’ an attraction. It’s my magnetic personality suckin’ you in... tee hee, sounds a bit –’

‘Tony?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Shut up.’

Saboo strokes the bulbous protrusions of Tony’s head and the widening cleft between them. His touch is soft and hesitant, but it feels wonderful. Tony doesn’t say anything, in case he embarrasses Saboo into stopping; he just pushes up against Saboo’s hand up above, and starts the slow process of everting his bits down below.

‘What the _fuck_ is that?’ Saboo has stilled his hand and is gazing at Tony’s nether regions with naked shock.

‘It’s me legendary alien penis,’ Tony explains. ‘Some of it, anyway.’

‘How much more is there?’

‘Plenty. But don’t worry, we won’t need it all.’

Saboo is still staring. ‘Thought you always said it was barbed.’

‘It is. Multi-hexagonal an’ textured an’ all, as you can see. But me barbs are all retractable, they’re retracted now an’ fully sheathed an’ I promise you I’ll keep ’em that way for the duration of proceedings. I told you, I’m not into pain. And anyway... I take it you’ll wanna use protection?’

‘Given your sexual history, Harrison, I’d say a prophylactic is essential.’ Saboo props himself on one elbow and reaches for the drawer in the bedside table. ‘And stop smirking like that. These are well inside their use-by date, I check regularly.’

He fumbles awkwardly with the little foil packet, and curses; Tony whisks it out of his hand with a flick of a tentacle, and opens it with practised ease.

‘So, um...’ He waves the limp little ring in the air. ‘I take it this is a yes, then?’

He watches the hesitation and the desire battling it out in Saboo’s dark eyes before the shaman finally grits out, ‘Yes.’

‘Lemme know if you change your mind.’

‘I won’t.’

The man has his pride... Tony reaches down and unrolls the squeaky membrane over his half-erected bits. He hates the smell and taste of rubber, but will put up with it for this.

He’s been wondering how to get Saboo into bed for years, and is ridiculously pleased with himself for having finally found a way to make it happen, even if only once and under slightly false pretences...

Saboo is still watching him with those wide dark eyes.

Tony wants to crawl up onto his shoulder and kiss him, explore that luscious mouth with its full lips, and something tells him Saboo wouldn’t mind this time; but he holds back. Leave something for the next man, woman, alien... to discover and make his, her or its own.

So he wriggles back down the bed and in between Saboo’s thighs, pushing them apart and lifting his knees until Tony’s in position.

‘Oh, now, that is a lovely view.’ Tony strokes Saboo’s groin, and down behind his balls. ‘An’ it feels good... Tastes good, too.’

‘For fuck’s sake, spare me the running commentary,’ Saboo growls. ‘Or I might change my mind after all. I don’t want to know how I taste, OK? I really... just... don’t. This is embarrassing enough as it is.’

‘Hey, come on, son, I can’t see anythin’ here to be embarrassed about, I was just showin’ my appreciation.’ Tony wriggles a couple more appreciative tentacles into that tempting arse-crack.

Saboo tenses. ‘Be careful... I’m not...’

‘What’s up?’ Tony stills his movements, and waits for the admission he knows is coming.

‘I haven’t done this before,’ Saboo says through clenched teeth.

Tony giggles; he can’t help it. ‘You are priceless. Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.’

‘Not on your life. You already know enough else about me that I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘Don’t worry, me discretion’s as legendary as me genitalia, I won’t breathe a word to the Board. Trust me.’

Saboo snorts. ‘Yeah right. About as far as I could kick you.’

‘That’s... quite a long way, actually. Remember the five-a-side game when you scored from the ’alf-way line?’

‘Yes, well.’ Saboo looks appealingly at the fourth wall. ‘Aren’t we rather wandering off the point here?’

Tony’s sporting reminiscences having been ruthlessly cut short by the script editor, Saboo goes to roll over onto his front again, but Tony stops him.

‘I’m flexible enough to take care of you from any angle... you’ll be ’appier if you stay this way up so you can see me coming – hee hee, sounds a bit rude...’

Saboo looks dubious.

‘I mean, so you don’t ’ave me sneakin’ up from be’ind where you can’t see me. I know you, you’ll get all tense an’ we’ll ’ave to do all the preparation malarkey over again.’

He spreads Saboo’s knees wider; parts him gently, runs a tentacle thoughtfully over his entrance. ‘Could do with a bit of lube... you got any?’

‘Here.’ Saboo throws him a plastic tube.

‘You been thinkin’ about this for a while.’ Tony screws the cap off, and squeezes some of the gel onto a couple of tentacles. ‘Nothin’ but the best, I see, you brought KX all the way from Xooberon, knocks spots off of that KY you get down ’ere on Earth, brings Mrs Harrison out in a rash something awful that stuff does...’

A tentacle-tip slips slowly inside the tight ring of muscle, as Tony chatters brightly on.

Saboo hasn’t told him to shut up. Tony takes that as a good sign and pushes carefully further into the tight, pulsing heat of this undeniably virgin body, feeling it relax around him as he strokes and stretches.

As he adds a second tentacle beside the first, he glances up. To his surprise, Saboo is propped on one elbow, watching... Tony grins. He likes to be watched.

‘This OK for you?’

‘I’d tell you if it wasn’t, wouldn’t I.’ Saboo goes on watching, unsmiling but fascinated, as Tony opens him up, little by little, until there’s room for a third tentacle and everything is silky and loose.

‘I reckon we’re nearly ready, just need a spot more lube on me bits... blimey, that’s cold...’

Despite the careful preparation, Saboo whimpers as Tony tries to push into him.

Tony withdraws, and considers. ‘Tell you what, let’s shove a pillow under that lovely bum, it’ll be at a better angle, make it easier on both of us.’

Saboo hitches himself up and pushes the spare pillow under himself; this time Tony slides in with no trouble.

‘Is that better?’ He loops a lubricated appendage around the base of Saboo’s half-hard cock, and strokes him back to full-mast.

‘Yes... yes, it’s fine.’

Tony takes his time, moving slowly, using all his sensory acuity to find the position and rhythm that works best for both of them.

‘Dunno why you haven’t had ’em queuin’ up to do this,’ he says conversationally, as he works himself in a little deeper. ‘Good-lookin’ bloke like you, could’ve ’ad your pick of the bunch, free choice...’

‘I already made my choice,’ Saboo mutters under his breath.

Tony pretends he didn’t hear.

There’s so much to distract him, so much to enjoy. Saboo is very clean, inside and out, tasting of soap and sweat and sex; and as always with a humanoid, there is all the fascinating architecture of joints and crevices, and the infinitely varied textures of hair and skin.

Saboo lies back on the pillow, breathing hard, thrusting up against the tentacles now wrapped around his erection from base to tip, while Tony is exerting all his skills, pressing expertly from the outside, his sheathed barbs moving independently, like small fingers caressing the sweet spot inside.

‘Oh,’ Saboo moans, ‘Oh...’

Not long now. Tony’s penis twitches with anticipation. He focuses his mind; murmurs a few subliminal suggestions...

‘Oh... Oh, NABOO!’

 _Result_ , Tony thinks, throbbing blissfully with his own climax and feigning deafness for the second time this morning.

There are tears on Saboo’s cheek when Tony crawls up to sit beside him; it takes a long time for his ragged breathing to calm, and then he doesn’t say anything, just rolls onto his side and falls asleep without even insisting on a cleanup.

Tony rolls the soggy prophylactic up in a tissue and drops it into the bin, then sits quietly, re-inverting his very contented private parts and watching Saboo frown in his sleep.

From the first time he sat on the Board, Tony had wondered what made this angry but undeniably handsome man tick.

Then Dennis assigned him as Saboo’s field partner in that unfortunate affair of the evil nanas, in which owing to a navigational error Saboo kicked him off their magic carpet to land in a wheelie bin behind a chip shop somewhere near the Edgware Road and take no further part in proceedings.

Saboo did have the decency to visit him in the shaman hospital to apologise, even though he wrinkled his nose at the smell of rancid fish still clinging to Tony’s skin; and once they were both recovered, they went out for a drink together, discovered a mutual interest in DJ’ing and have since played the odd gig...

You might almost have considered them friends.

Saboo still calls Tony a Kinder Egg – and other, unkinder things – but has never again abandoned him on a mission. Those big hands are always there to scoop him off the floor, help him onto the carpet, put suncream on his head...

That time on the beach, looking up Saboo’s shorts, that was when Tony realised he wanted –

And that Saboo wanted too, for all his protestations.

It took Tony a bit longer to work out that Saboo was angry because he was unhappy, and then to figure out the source of his unhappiness.

The answer, when he finally arrived at it, was blindingly obvious. It cost Tony’s five hearts some heartache, seeing as he’d got secret designs in that direction himself; but he could see that his case was hopeless.

Other people’s happiness is important too. Mrs Harrison was always saying that, and he knew she was right, bless her, so he’d done his best to ensure, if not happiness, at least the absence of heartbreak, by means of a strategically placed hex...

Then that phone call came through from a very worried Dennis the other day, a management problem he said, and could Tony use his gift for strategy to help work out what to do.

So Tony did one of his best-ever bits of unique thinking, and having figured out that it was actually a matter of love and magic rather than management, and then realised that Valentine’s Day was coming up, he was able to get back to Dennis with a cunning plan to sort it all out and give everybody what they wanted.

 _But won’t your wife mind_ , Dennis had said as he helped Tony apply his lipgloss, _mine would never sanction this_...

Mrs Harrison, bless that big generous heart that beats beneath her big generous bosom, is very understanding. She makes Tony happy and vice versa and that’s all she wants; she doesn’t mind if he then goes and makes other people happy with his unique talents.

In fact she likes to hear about it, late at night, when they’re curled up under their pink satin sheets.

With any luck he’ll have a fantastic story for her tonight, fairytale ending and all...

But even if not, even if the rest of the plan goes tits-up, that was a helluva shag.

 

...........................................................

Saboo jerks awake at the sound of the bedroom door banging open.

No. Oh no.

This can’t be happening.

Of all the people he least wanted to turn up at this precise moment...

Naboo is standing by the bed, staring wide-eyed and disbelieving at him and Tony. ‘What the fuck’s goin’ on’ere?’

Tony grins at him, unabashed. ‘Hello Naboo old son, come to make it a threeway?’

‘Dream on, ya pink ballbag. That’s disgustin’.’

‘Suit yerself.’ Tony blows him a kiss. ‘Anyway, I was just going.’

‘Just coming, more like.’

‘Well, you know me, Naboolio, I embrace me sexual opportunities with open arms...’

‘Tentacles,’ Saboo mutters, pulling the sheet more tightly around himself and hoping he is still dreaming.

Naboo glares at him. ‘I didn’t need to ’ear that. I’m just glad I didn’t ’ave to see it.’

Tony leans over and kisses Saboo affectionately on the cheek. ‘Well, thanks lover, so long, it was a pleasure.’

He wipes a still-damp tentacle on the corner of the sheet; Saboo shudders, and Tony giggles. ‘Houseproud to the last... Some things never change.’

He slides down off the bed onto the floor, landing at Naboo’s feet with a self-satisfied plop. ‘Cheerio then.’

‘Hang on.’ Saboo peers over the side of the bed. ‘What about your shamanic task?’

‘All done and dusted, an’ you’re lookin’ at the evidence.’ Tony laughs uproariously. ‘Your face is a picture... buy me a drink when you’ve worked it out. Now, Naboo, if you’ll be so kind as to put me back in me box, I’ll be on me way, you two have a lot to talk about.’

Looking a bit stunned, Naboo picks Tony up, carries him to the door and puts him carefully down in the box.

There’s a flash and a soft popping sound, and he’s gone.

Naboo stands in the doorway, staring at the empty box. ‘Tha’s weird, I got one of those delivered this mornin’ too.’

‘What, with Kirk in a dress?’

‘No, mine was empty... still reckon it was better than yours though.’

He turns back to the bed and just stands there, with that infuriatingly unreadable expression on his face, the one that makes Saboo want to kick him.

Or pull him into his arms and never let him go.

Frequently both.

Saboo tries to look dignified, or as dignified as you can look when you’ve just lost your virginity and are half asleep, bollock-naked and wrapped in a come-stained sheet. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your door was open. And you called.’ Naboo sounds as though this is self-explanatory.

‘You plum. I didn’t phone you.’

‘I know you didn’t, but anyway I heard you, ’bout an hour ago?’

‘Were you high?’ Saboo asks severely.

‘Yeah.’ Naboo grins sheepishly. 'But anyway... Thought I’d better come round.’

‘Why?’

Naboo chews on his lip. ‘I dunno... I just... this is a rubbish day to be on your own, and you don’t have many friends here.’

‘I don’t have _any_.’

‘Maybe you do. An’ I don’t just mean Tony Ballbag Harrison.’ Naboo’s eyes are dark and deep behind their long lashes. ‘Listen, I don’t do that roses-is-red bullshit an’ I’m pretty sure you don’t even like me, but my shaman-senses tell me you hate bein’ stuck on this crappy planet nearly as much as I do.’

‘Probably more. In fact, after this morning, _definitely_ more.’

Naboo nods. ‘Thought so. Well, if you want, we could go out tonight, get pissed, rant about how rubbish earth is, maybe it’d make us feel better.’

‘Worth a try.’ Saboo is cautious; he’s not sure what this means, he’s never been able to read Naboo through his habitual air of blankness, whether it’s cultivated self-defence or just the result of all the weed he smokes.

‘An’ I thought, perhaps, if that goes OK, there might be some other things we could try...’

He’s looking at Saboo now, really looking at him, and their eyes meet and the blankness slips for a moment. With a joyous shock, Saboo sees that behind the mask is a need, an attraction, a _want_ as deep and as hungry as his own...

Naboo blushes, and drops his gaze. ‘Ooops, sorry, gettin’ a bit carried away there, you didn’t need to see that.’

‘Maybe I did.’ Saboo holds out a hand to him. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’

Naboo comes slowly over to the bed; his fingers are cold as they close around Saboo’s. ‘Couldn’t. Just... couldn’t, is all. No matter how much I wanted... somethin’ stopped me, every time.’

‘Like... like a hex, you mean?’

‘Yeah, could’ve been, though why anybody’d do that...’

Saboo suddenly realises why he owes Tony that drink. ‘I think I know why. And who. But it’s a long story. We can talk about it tonight over dinner.’

‘Do we need to wait til tonight?’ The wide and wicked grin on Naboo’s face almost stops Saboo’s heart.

‘I suppose not... give me ten minutes to have a shower, though.’

The grin grows wider and wickeder. ‘Make it a bath, an’ I’ll come an’ wash your back. Not necessarily in that order...’


	4. ‘The littlun only ever ’ad eyes for Saboo, when all’s said an’ done.’

‘Ah, Tony.’ Dennis looks up from his copy of ‘Extreme Sports Model Weekly’ with an expression of mild surprise. ‘You’re back sooner than I expected.’

Tony waves a tentacle in cheery greeting. ‘You know me, Dennis, I operate with awesome efficiency.’

‘It went to plan, then?’

‘It certainly did.’ Tony grins broadly.

‘You’re sure he’ll stay?’ Dennis looks a bit worried. ‘It’ll be hell finding a replacement.’

‘Listen, ’e’s not gonna be goin’ anywhere for the foreseeable. Trust me on that.’

‘You’d better be right. Those boxes didn’t come cheap, especially fitting yours with a transport device as well as the transmitter.’

‘Money well spent.’ Tony hauls himself onto the chair in front of Dennis’s desk. ‘Worked like a charm, quicker’n’ I thought an’ all. The boxes won’t be wasted. Saboo can use his to send in his paperwork. An’ Naboo won’t have thrown his out, they never tidy up in that flat, we can retrieve it an’ reuse the receiver for somethin’ else... Hello? Dennis, are you still with me?’

The Head Shaman’s brow is furrowed with deep thought. ‘So... those two are together now? A couple?’

‘You better believe it. About bleedin’ time, too.’

‘But how...?’

‘Told you. Magic.’

‘I thought it was un-magic. Didn’t you go there to take a spell off Saboo?’

Tony sighs. He must have explained this half a dozen times in the course of putting in his fast-track funding application, but Dennis still doesn’t get it. ‘Not off of Saboo, Dennis you dinlo, it was Naboo I hexed, back when I realised I ’ad no chance wiv ’im meself.’

Dennis’s eyebrows shoot upwards to where his hairline would be if he had one. ‘You were interested in Naboo?’

‘Was. I’m over ’im now.’ Dennis doesn’t need to know that that’s not entirely true. ‘The littlun only ever ’ad eyes for Saboo, when all’s said an’ done.’

‘I had thought I noticed him looking sometimes,’ Dennis says thoughtfully. ‘Although with him it’s always hard to tell... But Saboo always said he didn’t like him.’

‘Course’ e did, ’e was just too far up ’is own arse to admit it, even to himself.’

‘So you hexed Naboo out of jealousy?’

‘No, because I didn’t want ’im to get ’urt.’ Tony sighs. ‘I fixed it so’s ’e wouldn’t make a move unless that tit Saboo called ’is name an’ actually meant it.’

‘Ah.’ Dennis’s brow clears. ‘So today’s manoeuvring was all about getting Saboo to call for him?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And did he?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Tony savours the memory of Saboo, head thrown back and eyes closed, crying out for what he really wanted...

‘But how did you –’

‘You don’t need to know.’ Tony shuffles in his chair; his bits are still pleasantly tender. ‘The point is, it worked, Naboo heard it an’ showed up, an’ I left them to it... I expect they’re in bed by now.’

‘Can’t picture that,’ Dennis murmurs, shaking his head, ‘just can’t picture it...’

Tony has a brainwave.

‘Listen, D-Man, you got a crystal ball in ’ere?’

‘Um, yes, I think so, somewhere...’ Dennis rummages in a drawer. ‘Here we are.’

‘Blimey, that’s an antique, does it still even work?’

Dennis dusts it off with his handkerchief. ‘Of course it does. This older technology’s very reliable...’ He peers into the smeary glass. ‘I don’t seem to be having much luck today though.’

‘Give it ’ere, then.’ Tony focuses his mind on Saboo, tuning the ball to the right frequency, a delicate job. ‘Blimey, it’s still in black an’ white. You really oughta upgrade to one of the new HD wideball models, you know? You get 3-D graphics in some of those, an’ all. This is the best I can do, bit grainy but you’ll get the idea.’

Dennis bends over and looks; his eyes widen. ‘They’re in the bath. Together. Washing each other’s... can you zoom in a bit closer?’

‘That better?’

‘Oh yes. I get the picture now.’ Dennis can’t tear his eyes away.

‘Pity we can’t ’ear ’em as well,’ Tony says.

Dennis licks his lips, his face all flushed. Then he grins. ‘Tony, I have had an idea,’ he declares grandly.

Tony bites back the comment that immediately springs to mind, and watches as Naboo throws his head back, laughing, water dripping from his black hair.

Maybe there will be a way to persuade them into a threeway sometime. You have to be an optimist in this game.

Meanwhile Dennis reaches across his desk and picks up the phone.

‘Hello... Barry? Dennis here. Listen, I’ve got another job for you. Yes, it’s urgent... No, not a delivery. A collection this time.’


End file.
